Indebted to the Mafia King
Blow Them Away

Dante

"No," Wing says. "We're not getting involved."

I scowl at the four other half-lit men in the back of the mahjong house in Chinatown. "What, does he have you all by the balls?"

"No," another triad leader, Chan, replies. "We talked before you arrived. He speaks our consensus. It's too dangerous."

I turn to Tony, expecting him to be just as shocked as I am. The fucking triads, backing down? Tony looks back at me evenly. Fuck, he's right. I need to keep goddamn cool. "What changed?" I ask.

Wing sighs. "The feds leave a wide trail."

I grimace. "Don't tell me this is about the deaths in Brighton."

"What else?" Chan slams his hand on the table. "Feds raid the Russians, get you your girl back, and who feels the pain? Russians. You know who will hurt if we help you?" "The triads." Wing's voice holds an air of finality.

I shake my head. "They're eating into your territory, aren't they?"

"Territory can be recovered." Chan folds his arms. "Lives, not so much."

I stand. "Call me if you ever pull your heads out of your asses."

Tony and I stride out of the gambling den. Two days, I've been back in the city, and I don't have shit to show for it other than a meeting with my guys to make sure they're still mine. They are, thank God, but fuck. Didn't I used to make a difference?

"You get through to Cal?" I ask as we step outside.

Tony nods. "He sounded...enthusiastic. Said he'd meet us wherever."

That's almost worse than saying no. "McCreegan's. I'd rather know where the danger is."

We climb into the car. On the drive, my thoughts drift to Eleni, getting ready for her first day of classes. Gianna has to be there by now, hopefully keeping her from worrying too much. I wish I could be there. I wish I didn't have to run in at dawn to kiss her on the forehead before she runs out the door.

I wish I wasn't so fucking tired.

Tony parks the car in front of McCreegan's Pub, and we tolerate the dramatics of the through-the-freezer performance again.

"Some goddamn day, we'll walk into a room, and he'll just be there," Tony grumbles.

"Doubtful," I reply.

Cal pops up from behind the dark wood bar in the surprisingly busy secret pub. "Talking about me, lads?"

"Always," Tony deadpans. "You ready to meet?"

He smiles. "Drinks first."

And he pours three goddamn tankards of that awful beer. I am not in the mood for his antics tonight, but I have to be. So I let him lead us to a curtained-off booth in the corner and sit without a hint of the scowl clutched behind my teeth. He raises his drink. "Sláinte."

I knock my tankard against his and take a sip. It tastes like fucking dirt.

"So, Tony says you're looking to re-establish." Cal grins. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Not trouble." I lean back against the leather of the booth. It is comfortable. "Just coming out of hiding, looking to get our foot back in the door. Wanted to know where the Irish Kings stood on the Russian issue."

"We stand against the icy bastards," he declares. "What door? What foot? If you're interested in fighting the good fight, the Kings have all the resources you want." He pauses, slides his gaze over to me. "That is, unless your policy of no partnerships with yours truly still stands."

The sparkle in his eye tells me he already knows what's going to happen. I do too. So does Tony, by his scowl. The Saints survived underground, but we were far from thriving. I need to get us back into shape, making money, making changes. And that means I need to reform relationships we let lapse. Relationships someone like Cal may well have picked up.

Deep breath. El and the baby need this. It's the first step toward a safe future for all three of us.

"I've realized that policy was a little hasty," I say.

Cal crows in delight. "Saints and Kings, side by side? These streets'll run red with Russian blood by next Monday."

I put a hand up. "I have terms."

He tips his drink to me. "I would expect nothing less. State your demands."

I glance at Tony. We talked about this before I even asked him to call Cal. Despite his bitching, he agreed. But now he's slumped in the booth next to me like a moody teenager I dragged out to family dinner. "Tony can tell you," I say.

Something hot and angry flashes in his ice-blue eyes. "Right. The Russians have snapped up the whole city center. All Lombardi's shit. The morsels of Coppola territory laying around. Chunks of your stuff, and the triads."

"Alas, I don't need the inventory." Cal takes a mournful drink. "I know it off by heart."

Tony rolls his eyes. "When this is done, we split it down the middle."

Cal hums. "Including that which my men have rightfully earned?"

"Given that we rightfully earned everything Lombardi and Coppola, yes," I reply.

He laughs. "Understood. Anything else?"

"We run this our way," Tony says. "No raids we don't know about. No half-cocked schemes. No sudden outside help."

Cal crosses himself solemnly. "Promise I won't take a piss without letting you boys know. Now, can we shake on it, or ought I get a Bible to swear over?"

Tony looks at me, irritation simmering in his eyes. I stick out my hand.

Half an hour later, after the celebratory drinks Cal insisted on, we walk out of the pub. I'm still humming When the Saints Go Marching In, which the rest of the Kings turned into a hell of a drinking song, and smiling. It's barely past three in the morning. I might get to wake up next to Eleni.

"You look like a kid who got a lollipop at the doctor." Tony opens the driver's side door and slides in.

I shrug and climb into the passenger's side. "I'm happy."

He drums his fingers on the wheel. "Is that because I'm about to take you back to her apartment?"

I look at him for a long moment. "Would that be so bad?"

He turns the car on and sits in silence. I watch him. She's what changed between us. Things have been off since I started falling for El, and I don't know how to fix it. Tony glances at me. "I-"

My phone rings, and the car automatically picks it up.

"Cattaneo," Henry says.

Tony snaps his mouth shut, storm clouds roiling across his brow. Fuck.

"Alcott," I reply. "Late call. What's up?"

He sighs. "I need to talk to you. Now."

"Life-or-death now?" I ask tiredly.

"Damn near."

I look at Tony. Every muscle in his body is knotted.

"I'll see you soon." I hang up the call.

"I'm not going," Tony says as soon as it disconnects.

"I'm not asking you to," I reply. My night with Eleni slips through my fingers like a dream. "Will you drive, or should I take the fucking subway?"

Tony sits there for a long moment. I genuinely think he's going to tell me to get out and walk.

"Address?" he bites out.

Minutes later, we pull up outside the same diner.

"I'll wait," Tony says before I have to ask. "Text me a gun emoji if you want me to blow his fucking head off."

Catty Tony. Great. Exactly what I need right now. I adjust the oversized gun in my holster to be a little more subtle and get out of the car. Inside the diner, Henry sits alone in the same booth as last time. "No Jace?" I ask as I join him.

"Not enough time." Henry frowns. "I already ordered coffee."

I nod. "That bad?"

He sighs. "I don't have full control over Camila."

My skin goes cold. "So the information she has is just out there?"

"Yes and no." He shakes his head. "She's not fucking talking, but when she does, it will be. Apparently, the white collar and public corruption guys have good goddamn reasons to want one of the first Russians we've picked up around here in almost a decade."

"That's what you get for playing tonsil-hockey with the government." I note the bags under his eyes, the wrinkles I swear weren't there last I saw him. Let him make threats. He looks like a suit on its third day of wear. "Bureaucracy fucks all. So, what do we do about it?"

"Can you talk to her?" he asks.

All my exhaustion burns away in one hot flash of rage when I picture Camila's face.

"That depends," I say quietly. "How upset would all those feds be if I murdered her?"

"Pissed enough to take it out on me for letting you in." He scrubs a hand over his face. "Fuck. Okay. What about your girl?"